In response to any amount, type, and repetition of Earnest Mystical Hand-Waving Attempts to tell me the wizards of the YouTube/Internet Collective Brain have sorted out that the Vegas shooting had to be accomplished by a belt-fed .30 cal.MG, pulled from the same genius that brought the Warren Commission the Magic Bullet Theory, write this down on your hands with a laundry pen:
You (and the other people trying this game on YouTube, etc.) are taking a video (or any 50 of them, because if one bag of fertilizer doesn't avail, a truckload might?) from hundreds of yards from the source, coming from a source embedded in a multi-acre wall of glass, and passing over another multi-acre concrete open space, (ignoring the hundreds of barriers, structural walls, and, oh yeah - a wide-open concert-quality sound system with open mics, rebroadcasting the rounds and all those source sounds and echoes passing in proximity over amps and speakers stacked high enough to rebroadcast their sounds over that same multi-acre venue - let alone not just ricochets, but serial sonic cracks of rounds that haven't impacted yet passing on both sides, overhead, etc.) and telling me that there are no echoes?
From a notional 600RPM source flinging 10 supersonic projectiles per second in the direction of the exact crap microphones in question. Which may or may not have been pointed 180 degrees out from the source, being on the opposite side of the camera, which neither you nor I nor any number of notional angels dancing on the head of a pin know for sure, but whilst their owners clutch the cases in deathgrips, trip, fall, run, bounce off of pavement, barriers, etc. sufficient to soil 20,000 sets of underwear, and trample some 400 of their peers seriously enough to require hospitalization. (Silently, perhaps?)
If only I hadn't spent two decades watching boom guys on production sets levitate $1K+ microphones over actors at ranges of 2-25 feet with the skill of surgeons, just to capture simple spoken dialog cleanly and without any sound artifact, at a spoken word rate far lower than 600 wpm, and feed it to guys whose sound package alone would buy hundreds of cell phones, and likely more cell microphones than the total present at the entire venue in question, to know whereof I speak here...)
Were these magic gunshots? Perhaps the laws of physics ceased to exist on this video. Maybe the person using this cellphone purchased it from the same guy who sold Jack the magic beanstalk beans. And maybe grits on your stove cook faster than anywhere else in the entire grit-eating world.
The volume, pitch, fidelity, and fifty other medium-induced artifacts and variables are precisely the point at issue with an abysmal-quality microphone that consists, in most instances, of a single 1mm hole in a plastic case, with their low-fidelity pre-bastardized product digitized and compressed, then uncompressed, then uploaded, then transmitted, until played through your speakers or mine, with any nameable range of audio fidelity.
And compared with audio from similarly audio-crap videos on YouTube, under the same parameters.
Do this math for me:
Shit x shit x shit x shit, compared with shit, played over speakers ranging from quality ranging from 0 to infinity (where 0=shit, and infinity equals pristine clarity) = __________?
c) magic diamonds
d) I don't understand the question
(Caveat: I may even be understating the number of shit multiplications in the first part of the problem by a factor of 2 to 5 times. Cheers.)
I'll reduce the equation for you:
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOP = QRSTUV = WXYZ(infinity) =
belt-fed .30 cal machinegun
Solve for all variables.
Show your work.
And you're convinced, because what you hear "sounds" right to you.
Because, for reference comparison, you have extensive experience with the sound of an actual belt-fed .30, fired at you from several hundred feet above you and hundreds of yards away, from a multi-echo location, to a multi-echo location, amidst screams, panic, chaos, etc., as you seek cover while in fear for your own life, and it sounds exactly like the shit squared squared crap audio on the clip, with epic levels of non-quantifiable changes before arriving at your eardrum.
From which you're going to extrapolate caliber, cyclic rate, and exact type of weapon, and simultaneously excluding every similar type of weapon of any other caliber (which would run to several hundreds of possible exemplars), based on yours/YouTube's extensive experience and sound catalog of every other weapon extant, since the year Gatling worked out the cranked multi-barrel carriage gun, and simultaneously rule out any possibility of it being any one of 20+ weapons in the room, with or without bump-fire stocks.
Because the audio quality of the video is so bad is doesn't capture any anomalies, just the exact phenomenon you're advocating.
And all this minor series of miracles absent any corroboration like expended links, piles of 7.62 brass, slugs, video or eyewitness testimony reporting seeing any given shooter firing this weapon (or weapons).
Let me sum up your case:
It's true, because biblical levels of reasonable doubt, times magic, and trust you, and lack of evidence proves the correctness of the original assertion.
Thanks for playing.
See if you can guess my response, sitting in the jury box, as you give your closing argument.
Seriously, tell me you work in a call center in Mumbai, and don't do anything where your grasp of physics, science, math, technology, etc, might be responsible for anyone's life or livelihood. Let me attempt for you a small example from my world.
This is a standard hospital pulse oximeter:
When it's properly applied, working correctly and a number of potential error-inducing problems* corrected, it tells me and many other professionals
a) your pulse rate
b) how much oxygen is flying around your bloodstream.
*(Keep your finger in that spot. I'll be coming back there.)
But not, Gentle reader, by me reading that number on the remote screen, does the number on the screen = Truth.
How does it work? The probe shines a red light on one side through your fingertip (earlobe, neonate's foot, etc.) and a receiver on the opposite side sees the received light, counts the rate of the waves as it changes, and via analysis of the color of light received, calculates the amount of oxygenated hemoglobin racing through your veins and arteries, and derives (by way of more math and science than you need to know) your heart rate and what amount of oxygenation of your tissue that equals.
*Unless (I told you we'd be coming back here)
Someone is moving the probe - like you tapping your finger.
Or me tapping your finger.
Or someone doing CPR while bumping the hand it's on.
Or you're wearing nail polish of any of various shades.
(Ask me how I know all these are true.)
What happens when you don't correct for that?
You get a reading of a good pulse and normal oxygenation on a corpse. You get a reading of dead on a live person. Or anything in between. (I can tap on one with no patient, and get readings in the normal range from absolutely no patient at all. That does not, thereby, proves the existence of ghosts.)
How do you fix that?
You look at the monitor, and see if the pulse ox waves match the heartbeats.
You look at the patient, and see if they're pink, awake, and talking, versus blue-lipped with crossed eyes and not breathing.
You wipe off their nail polish.
You stop the probe from moving.
In short, you treat the patient, not the monitor, because you don't try to pull an elephant out of your ass based on A SINGLE PIECE OF POTENTIALLY CORRUPTED DATA.
You brighter folks, tell the less-bright why extrapolating a particular machinegun from one single datum, in this case one or more sound recordings, of hugely dubious accuracy, unknown and suspect fidelity, and therefore little utility, might therefore be slightly left of retarded on the IQ curve. If that doesn't work, try a bigger Wand Of Truthiness until the problem resolves.
Those of you with new lumps on your heads:
Your abacus fingers are not fast enough to do the calculus which answer you claim to be pulling, from parts of anatomy better left unnamed.
I'm sorry if logic annoys you, but I'm simply telling you, Orville and Wilbur, that no matter how many rubber bands you wind around the propeller, you will not ever get your pig to fly. And strapping rockets to the pig will not overcome the problems with aerodynamics, but you will splatter bacon much farther from the site of the inevitable smoking-hole failure of subsequent attempts.
Like trying to teach a pig to whistle, you're wasting your time, and annoying the pig.
Most depressing part of this post: knowing that now, another dozen jet-fueled geniuses will redouble their efforts on YouTube, and the Internetz.